


Oh Death

by magickmoons



Series: Prompt Ficlets (SPN) [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Car Accidents, Established Relationship, M/M, Near Death Experiences
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-13
Updated: 2019-07-13
Packaged: 2020-06-27 20:51:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19797553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magickmoons/pseuds/magickmoons
Summary: Where was he? He couldn't remember. It was their anniversary, he remembered that much.





	Oh Death

**Author's Note:**

> This is part of my write every day (well, I'll keep trying anyway) initiative. This was written to the prompt: floating

It was dark all around him. He was softly cocooned inside something quiet, warm, comfortable. A feeling of peace filled him, surrounded him.

Something was wrong though. He should be feeling something else. Reluctantly swimming through the peaceful lethargy, he slowly realized that what he should be feeling was ... pain. 

Confusion permeated the peace. Why should he feel pain?

Where was he? He couldn't remember. It was their anniversary, he remembered that much. Dean had looked stunning as they left for dinner. They had been looking forward to this night for so long; everything had been so busy lately with Dean's business taking off, and Cas knee deep in revisions on his latest book on top of his normal teaching course load.

But he couldn't remember anything after Dean, excited and beaming, had escorted him to the car.

He couldn't feel anything around him, couldn't hear anything.

Maybe he should look around, find out what he could. He felt a glimmer of fear, but pushed through it anyway and opened his eyes.

And instantly wished he hadn't. Because he was looking at himself lying in a hospital bed. One side of his face was a mottled mass of bruises. Some of his hair had been shaved away and a large bandage covered most of the area. His arm was in a cast, swollen fingers peeking out the end, laying atop the light blanket. 

In stunned disbelief, he looked down at himself, where his body should be -- only to see nothing. He tried to wave his hands, kick his legs, looking for any indication that he was -- real? solid? -- but there was just nothing, no body, no bones, no muscles for him to command.

Instead, he seemed to be separated from his body, incorporeal, floating, existing in and around this hospital room.

_ This can't be happening _ , he thought frantically.  _ This doesn't make any sense. _

Everything around him was lost in a soft shimmery haze. He scanned his body again, and a nearby glint caught his eye. He focused his attention, and it resolved itself into a familiar ring.

_ Dean! Dean is here. _

He tried to draw breath to speak, to announce his presence to his husband, but again, nothing happened.

_ Fuck. _

He focused harder on Dean's ring. One finger became five, became a hand -- strong, rough, scarred and well-loved. His perception mapped the form of his husband -- forced his mind to recognize and acknowledge him ... and there he was!

Slumped wearily in a plastic chair next to the bed, gently holding his uninjured hand, Dean was wearing the same outfit Cas remembered from their anniversary date night, but his white button-down shirt was oddly spattered with patches of red. He stared at Cas's unmoving form. He was talking, Cas realized, his lips moving and Cas concentrated his focus again, yearning to hear that voice.

"... man, I can't do this without you. I really don't think I can."

The words came slowly, slurring into each other, as if the effort of separating the sounds was just too much.

"gotta come back to me You just ... " He stretched forward and rested his head next to Cas's hand.

_ Dean. _

"Dean."

Dean didn't even move, but suddenly the haze fluctuated, disappeared, and Cas saw Sam standing behind him. He looked drawn and somber, almost as exhausted as Dean. He absently smoothed out the collar of Dean's flannel before resting a hand on his shoulder.

"Dean, you've been here for three days. You need to go home, take a shower, get some real rest in an actual bed."

Several days' growth of beard darkened Dean's cheeks, dark hollows stood out starkly under his eyes. He slowly shook his head. "No, Sam."

"We're all here, man. If Cas wakes up, he won't be alone. He wouldn't want you to do this."

_ Sam's right. _

"... were in the accident too, you need rest. You need time to reco --"

"Forget it." It was the loudest Dean had spoken, his voice rough and grating. "I'm not leaving here until Cas does."

_ He seems ... defeated. _ Cas looked at Dean's eyes, reddened, tired, and terrifyingly resolved.  _ What are you thinking, Dean? _

A sudden surge of pain, shoulder, neck, a headache so bad he would have passed out if he had not already been ... whatever he was.

"Castiel."

A silky smooth voice came from behind him. He turned to see a woman, tall and beautiful but stern, clad in black. He looked back at Dean but saw no sign that his husband was aware of the newcomer.

"Who are you?"

Music he couldn't hear flooded his mind, filled all of his senses, overwhelmed him. 

> _ But what is this that I can't see _
> 
> _ With ice cold hands taking hold of me? _
> 
> _ When God is gone and the Devil takes hold _
> 
> _ Who will have mercy on your soul? _
> 
> _ No wealth, no ruin, no silver, no gold _
> 
> _ Nothing satisfies me but your soul _
> 
> _ Ohhh -- _

"You're ... Death?"

She smiled. "A modern version, anyway. You can call me Billie."

"And you're here to take me?" A sinking feeling overcame him and he tried to back away from her.

She tilted her head. "I'm here to give you a choice, actually."

"A choice? Why?"

"I'm a sucker for a good love story. Plus, Dean Winchester intrigues me. In another ... time, anyway"

"A choice." He had never heard anything good about bargaining with Death.

"To come with me. Or go back."

"If I go with you... I die?"

"Well, that body dies." She indicated his battered body lying motionless in the bed.

"And then what?"

She shook her head. "Not telling."

"And if I choose to go back, I'll be fine?"

A shrug. "Not my area."

"So I could be a vegetable?"

"Yup."

"And... for how long?"

"Until the next time your number comes up."

He looked back to where Dean sat next to his still body. He was dressed in jeans and a worn henley -- his comfort clothes; Sam must have brought them. Dean was talking again, but Cas couldn't hear him anymore. Everything around Dean was going hazy again. He turned back to Billie.

"What's happening?"

"It's time to make your choice, Castiel."

A soft light glowed behind her.

"What happens to Dean if I go with you?"

She thought for a moment, then shook her head. "Can't tell you that."

"Can't?"

"Not allowed."

"Not 'allowed'?" he parroted. The glow behind her grew stronger, he could almost feel its warmth. Ignoring it with a great effort, he asked, "Who could possibly set rules for Death?"

She chuckled. "We all need rules, Castiel. But I can't tell you more than that."

The warmth pulsed behind her, tendrils reaching out to lick at Cas's skin. Everywhere it touched was like being bathed by a joy like nothing he had ever experienced. He could revel in that feeling forever.

He took a step toward Billie.

_ Please, Cas. I need you. _

Dean's voice was so quiet he almost missed it ...

_ I love you. _

... but it was there. He turned his head. Nearly everything was blurred, even his own body -- but Dean's face was crystal clear. Exhausted, in pain, grieving, a tear traced down his cheek through stubble so heavy it was practically a beard. He angrily scrubbed it away, only to have it replaced a moment later.

Cas stood for an interminable moment, pulled in both directions. The light wanted him, offered him peace, joy ... it offered everything.

He took a deep breath.

Everything except Dean.

He looked at Billie and shook his head.

She smiled and nodded, reached a hand to his cheek. "Rest, Castiel." She leaned in, whispered, "For what it's worth, I think you made the right choice."

* * *

A smell of flowers was heavy in the air, almost masking the pervasive antiseptic scent. Everything hurt; he felt like he'd been hit by a ...

He opened his eyes with a gasp, coughing when his too-dry throat rebelled.

Dean was there, leaning over the bed, his eyes -- worried, tired, and bloodshot -- scanning over him.

"Cas?" Dean's voice was softly disbelieving. "God, are you really -- ?"

He collapsed down into his chair, gripping Cas's hand tightly between his own, resting his head on top, his shoulders shaking.

Cas took stock of his situation, giving Dean a moment to compose himself.

They had been out -- a date. Dean singing along to Zeppelin on the way to dinner. An image flashed through Cas's mind -- he'd seen the car barely a second before impact, no time to warn Dean. He remembered the sickening feeling of sliding sideways, his head hitting the window, screeching metal and the smell of burning rubber. Dean's frantic yells, then ... nothing. Not instantly waking up in the hospital. Just ... blackness.

"Is the Impala okay?"

"What?" Dean looked up, his eyes and cheeks wet.

"Baby, is she... ?"

Dean barked out a short laugh. "Fuck if I know. I've left all that to Sam and Bobby. Had to be here..."

Cas wormed his hand out of Dean's and reached toward his face. Dean leaned in to let Cas softly comb through his beard.

"How long?"

"Nine days." His voice cracked. "I was starting to think ..."

Cas let his hand drop, his arm shaking from the exertion. "Never leave you, Dean."

His eyes fluttered closed.

Dean's lips brushed across his, and he forced his eyes open. Dean smiled. "Yeah. Never shoulda doubted you, babe. Get some rest. I'll let everyone know you're awake."

"Never leave," Cas murmured as he settled back into a plain, wholesome sleep.


End file.
